


Winter

by RivRe



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fever, Gen, Pre-Canon, Teenagers, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-13
Updated: 2014-04-13
Packaged: 2018-01-19 07:24:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1460776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RivRe/pseuds/RivRe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve loves the winter and the cold air in his lungs.<br/>Bucky hates it for the exact same reason.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winter

**Author's Note:**

> I have a lot of feels about my brOTP, and hopefully some pre-canon will help heal my post-Winter Soldier heart.

Bucky paced back and forth, sucking the cold air into his lungs, relishing in the sharp burn that was so deadly, loving and hating every breath of it.

The door opened and shut quickly behind him. “How’s he doing in there?”

“About the same. I have to get to the hospital. I’ll see you in a bit, James.”

“Bye, Mrs. Rogers.” He didn’t look over at the slight woman as she leaned over, reaching up to give him a peck on the temple. He didn’t need to look at her to know that her normally tight blond bun was coming loose, the hairs falling around her face, or that worry lines creased her wrinkle-free brow, or that her skin was almost as pale as her son’s was when it wasn’t burning red with the fever, making the dark circles under her eyes stand out like bruises. He kept his gaze locked on the ground, only looking up when her retreating figure was two blocks away, rounding the corner.

After a few moments of steeling himself, Bucky went into the small apartment. Steve was half-asleep in his tiny room, all the blankets in the house piled on top of him. When Bucky stopped in the doorway, he cracked open his eye. “Is that Bucky Barnes or am I hallucinating?”

“Probably.” Bucky sauntered over and plucked the warm cloth off Steve’s head, dipping it into the bucket of cool water on the floor. He replaced it carefully.

“Got tired of sulking out in the cold?”

“Why? You jealous?” There was a wooden stool against the wall, and Bucky dragged it over.

“Not as jealous as you’re going to be. Mom made that soup you like, with the carrots.” Steve grinned up at him weakly. “She was putting it up earlier, and I told her to make extra, that you’d be over soon.” Bucky raised an eyebrow at that, though he wasn’t sure if Steve could see it. “She laughed at me, told me that of course she would, she knows better than that.”

Bucky laughed. “I love your mom.”

“Yeah, she’s the best.” His eyes were drifting shut, and his words were slurring. “She left it on a slow cook, but it should be ready by now. Don’t forget to save me a bowl.”

“Can’t eat the whole pot, can I? It’s your job to pig out.” There was no response from the pile of blankets besides for a gentle snore, so Bucky wetted the cloth again and went out to grab a bowl of soup, letting the liquid burn its way down his throat as he sat on his stool and watched his friend.

Two bowls, one mumbled conversation, and several hours later, Mrs. Rogers came home. She popped her head into the room briefly to check on the boys, and found one asleep and the other sitting on the floor with a book on his lap and an empty bowl beside him, engrossed in his reading. After washing up, she came back in.

“How was the soup?” she whispered.

Bucky startled, and his head jerked up, not expecting her to be there. “It was great, Mrs. Rogers, thanks.”

“Steve have any yet?”

“He hasn’t really woken up yet. How was work?”

She shrugged, and leaned over her son, touching his forehead. “Long. Stressful. The usual. You know how the winter can be.”

“Yeah.” He studied his friend’s face, twisted in pain. “I get it.”

Mrs. Rogers wet the cloth again. “Are you sure you don’t want to go outside, play in the snow with any of your friends?” Bucky almost sighed audibly. They went through this every now and again, Mrs. Rogers telling Bucky to go have fun, Bucky telling her he was fine right where he was, watching his friend sleep.

“We are playing. The game’s called ‘How long can Steve annoy Bucky until he’s at his wit’s end and ready to shake him so hard the fever comes flying out of him?’”

Bucky was rewarded with the slightest smile. “You’re sixteen, James.”

“Exactly. I’ve got plenty of time to go out in the snow. And Steve’s going to be there with me.”

“He’s so lucky to have you.”

Bucky shook his head vigorously. “Naw, not as lucky as I am to have him.”

She smiled down at him. “Let me go put up supper. Is your mom expecting you home soon?”

“No, I told her I might be here all night, depending on how Stevie’s doing.”

“I’ll make sure there are extra carrots, then.” She shut the door softly behind her, and Bucky stared up at his friend, listening to his rattling breaths and his tiny little moans.

When Mrs. Rogers told him dinner was ready, he put down his book and followed her into the tiny little kitchen. They ate quietly, but it was a comfortable silence, almost familial. Bucky had known Steve and his parents for so long, they were like his second family. He knew that his own parents felt the same way about Steve, which is why they were fine whenever he stayed over during the winters.

After they finished eating, Bucky took the plates to the sink before Mrs. Rogers could. He knew how tired she was, and he wanted to do whatever he could to help alleviate some of her stress.

“There should be a blanket still on the couch for you, James. I’m sorry, I have to get to bed. I have an early shift tomorrow.” She gave him a goodnight kiss, and then went in to check on Steve. Bucky could hear him coughing in the other room over the sound of the running water, and he scrubbed harder.

He had forgotten his pajamas again. He found an old pair of pants of his in Steve’s closet, something he’d lent him once when they’d been outside his apartment and some punk had shoved Steve into a mud puddle. Changing into them, he folded his own clothes neatly and left them on the small table in middle of the living room. There was a pillow and a blanket on the couch, and he unfolded and fluffed them.

Before going to sleep, Bucky went in to check on Steve again. The coughing had stopped, and he was sitting up in bed, breathing fast and staring off into space.

“You awake?” Bucky stood in the doorway.

Steve nodded slowly. “Yeah, I think so.” He climbed out of bed, wrapping one of his blankets around his shoulders, and followed Bucky into the kitchen. They each took a bowl of soup and took seats at the table again, slurping loudly, but not too loudly that they’d wake Steve’s mom.

“You’re going to be fine.” Bucky was talking more to himself than to Steve, but his friend rolled his eyes at him and kicked him under the table before standing up to get another bowl.

“Of course I will. I’m always fine, punk.”

Bucky smiled around his spoon. “Jerk.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!!


End file.
